Have been thinking about the violence and strife happening in Myanmar for some time. Its such a shame........

Violence is the first thing that sheds away when the attachment of a "belonging" , gradually ceases to trouble us.

I remember once when i had found my wife with a dissolved state of body and mind , i used the opportunity in narrating to her an incident which Lord Buddha had recounted to the Sangha when there were niggardly infighting within the Sangha. I could not help but breaking down when sharing the profoundness of Dhamma.

" There was once a very righteous king who ruled a small province , keeping his subjects in good stead . A neighboring avaricious king , wanting to extend his kingdom further and further , planned on invading the province . The spies of the righteous king learnt about the impending attack and informed the king about the would be invasion . The wise king knowing that his army would be no match to this invasion , and any resistance would only lead to a blood bath to his army and civilians , decided to leave his kingdom and lead a life of obscurity in a village yonder .

The righteous king and queen lived a life as poor peasants ,and in time had a son born to them . The years went by and old age came on to the couple , with their son becoming an able bodied handsome young man. In the meantime, the spies of the avaricious king learnt of their hiding , and reported it to the king . Soldiers were sent to the hut of the old couple , who bound them in chains and brought them in front of the cruel king . It was decided by this cruel king to have the couple marched across naked in the four directions of the kingdom , flogging them unto death , after which their bodies were to be torn apart , and flung away for the vultures to feast .

The son in the meantime returned to the hut , and seeing the disarray , knew that something had happened . With a beating heart he went in search, and soon came across a procession that saw him seeing his parents beyond belief . The moment his Father saw him, with pleading eyes did he reach out to his son, in not recognizing them , and sang out a poem melodious in its harmony of clarity. Hatred never gets appeased with hatred, and the milk of kindness would make even the most vile tasting poison turn to a nectar of good will. The soldiers thinking that the old man had gone mad , lashed on further , which made the son push in through , in turn panicking his Father, who sang the poem louder and louder . When at last , they were undone of their final breath, and the chunks of their flesh strewn apart , the young man with hate in his heart , promised to give it back and more ......

The young man got himself a job as a working hand in the kings elephant stables , and sang his way through, while tending to the elephants and horses . The notes of melody reached on to the kings ears , curious , he went to see its source , leaving him impressed with the persona of the stable hand. Soon , the young man gained the favor of the king , and a bond of strength and implicit trust was built as the years passed by . On a hunting expedition with thundering horses they went , with the young man leading on a chariot , the king sheltered by its regal umbrella . Soon seizing the opportunity , the young man slowly branched away the chariot , deep into the forest , finally appearing to be confused and lost . The king was by then tired , with his limbs aching he asked to be rested. The young man gladly let the horses rest , and the king laid his head on the young man's lap , weary and tired . Unsheathing the sword , and with bottled up fury , came the memories flooding back, thrice did he lift the sword , and thrice did his Father's poem stir his heart , by then the king woke with a jolt , stunned, asked the cause of it all . The king flung himself on the feet of the young man and cried for pardon ......it was his Fathers poem that he recited then, who was he to keep a grudge in his heart ..............

The Kingdom flourished and the young man went on to become a just and virtuous King of the Empire ."

The Path of Dhamma

The path of Dhamma is no picnic . It is a strenuous march steeply up the hill . If all the comrades desert you , Walk alone ! Walk alone ! with all the Thrill !!

Please state a reference for where this story appeared in the Tipitaka, or give a link we can follow.

With metta,Chris

---The trouble is that you think you have time------Worry is the Interest, paid in advance, on a debt you may never owe------It's not what happens to you in life that is important ~ it's what you do with it ---

---The trouble is that you think you have time------Worry is the Interest, paid in advance, on a debt you may never owe------It's not what happens to you in life that is important ~ it's what you do with it ---

Thank you for your response - I have a set of the Jatakas I bought some years ago in Sri Lanka and look forward to reading number 371.

With metta and respect,Chris

---The trouble is that you think you have time------Worry is the Interest, paid in advance, on a debt you may never owe------It's not what happens to you in life that is important ~ it's what you do with it ---